Ignorance
by SandandSea1
Summary: The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about. -Wayne Dyer After a well-deserved reprimand, Andy looks for the woman behind the Idol. But, like Pallas Athena, Miranda seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere, fully grown and wearing perfectly tailored Haute Couture, a modern-day goddess of fashion. Andy never could resist a mystery.
1. Part 1

Ignorance

A Devil Wears Prada fanfiction

by Sandandsea1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the DWP characters.

AN: I needed a break from Without Summer, and had been meaning to start writing this again. So here you go, something a little lighter. Part 1 is originally posted on Livejournal.

 **The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about.**

 **\- Wayne Dyer**

Part 1:

The door to the employee lounge room slammed open. The force caused the knob to make an indent into the cream colored wall in spite of the door jamb. Andy in her anger didn't notice the damage or the two Runway employees whose heads whipped towards her.

There were six lounge rooms designated for _**Runway's**_ employees. The lounge that Andy had chosen was one of three on the eleventh floor. The other three were located at various spots on the tenth floor which Runway magazine also controlled. It was also the closest to the offices of the Editor-in-chief and was jokingly called the Green Room.

The Green Room was almost always empty because of its proximity to Miranda's offices. It was just Andy's luck that Emily and Serena were there. Making a play on the nickname, the last lounge designer had tastefully decorated the room in cool greens and cream. There were splashes of purple in the throw pillows of the couch, the artwork lining the walls, and accented in the kitchen back-splash.

Emily and Serena were in the kitchenette that lined part of one green painted wall when Andy came in. The red-head was in the midst of touching up her lipstick at the sink while her blonde partner-in-crime leaned against the counter and flipped through a competitor's magazine. Seeing that the commotion was only Andy and not someone important, Emily casually turned back to the mirror hanging above the sink, making sure that she hadn't gotten any of the glossy, pearl color on her teeth.

Emily put away the lipstick tube and took her mascara out of her bag. The wand was brushed over her eyelashes in deft, efficient motions. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Serena watching Andy with curious hazel eyes. Emily nudged the modelesque woman and mouthed silently to her, "God, what a prat!" Serena caught the words and nodded. Then she went back to the entertaining sight of the brunette who was muttering to herself and ignoring the room's other occupants.

"So," Emily drawled her inquiry, her tone very blasé, when the silence had started to stretch on too long. "What are you going on about now?" It was the only acknowledgment that she gave to Andy. The obviously upset woman didn't look like she was going to calm down anytime soon and Emily didn't have all day to deal with whatever little problem her co-worker had blown up into a crisis.

Emily's reaction, or lack thereof, caused Serena to quirk her lips up in amusement. The high strung woman could be so very British at times, sometimes stereotypically so. Emily was, Serena knew, probably quite concerned as to what had distressed their normally upbeat co-worker. But Andy was not yet a friend and Emily would rather express her concern in a way that allowed her to seem totally disinterested.

Andy was almost beyond pissed off by the time she had entered the Green Room. "Damn that woman," she muttered under her breath as the anger poured off her in waves and her body language shouting to leave her the _hell_ alone. She paced the length of the room ignoring her audience of two. The softness of the carpet prevented her from stomping properly and was another thing to critique.

For two months Andy had worked for that woman. For two months Andy had done every little thing that her boss had told her to do. If Miranda wanted her to come in on her day off, Andy did. She put off dinners with her friends and dates with Nate for that woman.

Miranda worked so much. How did she manage to keep her own home life together? Was she one of those women who had to be controlling in the workplace because they were controlled at home? Andy didn't think so. Miranda seemed like the type of woman who was needlessly cruel because she received some kind of sick enjoyment out of being that way. He husband was probably henpecked at home.

Andy herself had practically become estranged from her friends and family! They had all gotten on the same band wagon about her having "changed". She wasn't even sure that she'd be welcome at Thanksgiving this year after the way she treated her father during his last visit. Things would definitely be tense over the turkey and cranberry sauce.

She worked like a dog and could her boss offer Andy even the smallest word of thanks or praise? Of course not! It was always, "How hard is it to read my mind about this, that or the other?" or "Why can't you be in two places at once so you can walk the dog and fetch my stupid slippers?" The last thought rang loudly in her head. She wasn't a dog! She didn't play fetch!

Andy was so lost in the swirl of her outraged anger that she hadn't heard Emily at first. The casualness of her question demoted her inquiry to a secondary problem. It was between one thought and the next, one breath and the next, that the memory of Emily's accent brought her co-worker's words to the forefront of her brain. The refined accent, though several degrees heavier than the source of her ire, allowed Andy spit out the name that seemed to embody everything that was going wrong in her life. "Miranda _Fucking_ Priestly."

Andy's nearly growled reply had Emily rearing back from her reflection with wide eyes. The answer caused her thoughts to stumble to a halt. Emily couldn't have heard what she thought she had. A movement off to her side made Emily glance in Serena's direction.

The blonde had closed her magazine and was now gauging Emily's response. Although usually composed, Serena had never been able to hide her emotions from Emily. And Emily now saw a shock that mirrored her own. Emily felt a small flame of anger ignite in the pit of her stomach. She _had_ heard correctly. Turning, leaning back against the counter, Emily glared at the brunette who hadn't stopped moving. "Excuse me?"

Serena's eyes widened in alarm at hearing the icy note lacing Emily's question. Cold blue eyes were narrowed dangerously and Serena automatically reached out to Emily with a restraining hand. It wasn't that Serena was worried that Emily would physically attack Andy because she would never do that, but the red-head often used words like a weapon. It was a skill that she had always had, and had fine-tuned under Miranda's tutelage. And Emily's temper, when it came to anyone besmirching Miranda Priestly, could be awesome in a truly terrifying way.

Her hand clasped gently around Emily's upper bicep. The skin was incredibly soft over the firm muscle. Serena brushed her thumb soothingly against the pale, bared skin and prayed that Andy would stop talking. She shot a warning look to Andy hoping that her touch would ground Emily's anger, keeping Emily from saying something that she might later regret and couldn't take back.

Andy was so focused on the reason her life was falling apart that she didn't notice Serena's warning look. She didn't see the restraining hand, nor did she see the way Emily's face flushed an alarming shade of red. She took Emily's question as interest. It was approval to let everything go. All the anger, and confusion, and her bruised ego could be vented on what she thought were willing and sympathetic listeners.

Emily was the 1st assistant, which meant that she used to be the 2nd assistant before Andy. She had gone through everything that Andy was going through. She could understand the frustrations of working for the impossible to please woman. And what about Serena? She had a lot of contact with Miranda as a lead editorial staffer wasn't she always kept on tenterhooks? How had the two survived the insanity for so long?

Nigel had said that if she had a personal life then she wasn't working hard enough. Was that true? Did Emily or Serena have family and friends at home that understood their crazy work schedule? They had never spoken about it.

"I mean, I know I'm her personal assistant," Andy finally wound down her litany of Miranda's 'sins'. She was so tired but amazingly she felt clean. The burden of dealing with everything alone lifted by sharing her thoughts with people who could truly understand the job. "But I don't 'fetch'," She finished. "She can't expect to work me like a dog and not-"

"Yes," Emily interrupted. "She can." She spoke slowly as if conversing with a not so bright child. Her voice was low and calm. The need to spit obscenities at the _ignorance_ of the woman in front of her lingered near the edge of her voice.

Emily shrugged off Serena's hand, barely looking at the other woman, "Oh, I'm sorry Andrea." She ignored the soft cautioning of Serena calling her name. Emily's focus was directed on one person and her tongue was on a seek-and-destroy mission. "I didn't know that you were under the assumption that you were being paid to bitch and complain about doing your job."

Andy was frozen, staring in open mouth confusion at the suddenness of her attack. Emily looked at her and showed the anger that filled her eyes watching as Andy stepped back. Emily knew that Andy had never really seen her upset; she'd only ever seen the small temper tantrums born from fits of pique.

"Where do you get the unmitigated gall?" Emily asked, stalking predatorily toward the brunette who retreated before her. Behind her, Emily felt Serena follow for support. "You don't know anything about Miranda Priestly, Andy. Nothing." She backed Andy up to the door and Serena stopped just behind and to the side of the conflict. Emily didn't know if she was there just to watch or to keep her from going ahead and smacking the bloody prat.

"You have no idea of who she is or why she does the things she does." Andy started to speak up at that but Emily continued, not giving her a chance. "You haven't a clue what she's done for the fashion industry and through the industry, the world." Emily's eyes narrowed at the small smirking laugh that came from Andy.

"Really, Em?" Andy asked sarcastically, "The world? Aren't you blowing this a bit out of proportion?"

That smacking idea looked better and better by the second to Emily, but she held her hand. "1.5 billion," Emily stated. She was satisfied by the smile falling into a puzzled frown, "That's the number of jobs that the fashion industry has created this year alone. The LCB apparel line which Miranda has personally endorsed and advocated for has provided over 200,000 meals to homeless families around the world since its inception a year ago." Emily nodded at the grimace of chagrined recognition at the name that crossed Andy's face. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Andy felt her lips quirk up into a grin. She knew that Emily hadn't meant it, but Andy found the unintentional pun terribly funny for some strange reason. She knew that it was nerves and adrenaline. "Yes. Okay, I get it." Emily admitted, rolling her eyes, "I'm hilarious." It was a brief moment of levity that slightly eased the tension filling the air.

Then suddenly Emily was pushing into her personal space and Serena was sharply calling Emily's name. Alarmed by the abruptness of the intrusion, Andy stumbled back into the wall behind her. "Now." Emily growled out and Andy couldn't look at her in the eyes anymore. She stood close enough that the Andy felt the heat of her anger flushed body radiate against her bare skin. "Your job is to do anything Miranda needs in order to make her day easier," Emily explained.

"If Miranda _Fucking_ Priestly, wants you to get down on your knees and kiss the toes of her Prada heels, then you _will_ do it because it will make her happy and thus make her day easier." Emily in leaned incrementally. "After all," she whispered. Her breath brushed, fluttering against Andy's ear. "Don't you want her to be happy, Ahn-drey-ah?" Emily smiled slyly. Andy felt a blush flare across her face at the way Emily drew out her name imitating Miranda's unique enunciation. Emily's blatant innuendo sparked images in her mind that she wasn't ready to deal with then. Maybe not ever. The blush deepened.

Emily drew back giving Andy room to breathe. Serena inched her back further and Emily let her because she still had the urge to smack Andy. It would be such a shame to let the impulse ruin any possible progress Emily had made with the brunette. Emily walked away past Serena who watched her go, her brows frown down in worry. "If you can't do the job. If you can't do what she needs, then quit now." Emily stressed, "There are, I'm sure you're aware, a million girls who kill for your job. They won't complain, won't even blink, when Miranda tells them to dispose of the body."

Emily took one last inspection of her appearance in the mirror before slipping her bag over her shoulder and picking up a tote which belonged to Serena. When she got near enough, Emily handed over the tote. Her thumb came up to smooth the frown line that had formed between Serena's eyes. The familiar habit, caused the blonde to smile softly and Emily cupped Serena's face, assuring her with her eyes that she was okay. "Ask yourself," Emily addressed Andy, never looking away from Serena's hazel eyes, "what is it you hope to achieve at _**Runway**_ _,_ Andy."

She ushered Serena to the door with a proprietary hand at the small of her lover's back. Emily turned back to see Andy looking surprised at her revelation. They came to a halt besides Andy. "You need to get your head out of your ass, Andy," Emily advised. "A year of working for Miranda because she _is_ Miranda and will push you to be the very best, and you'll be able to name your next position in the publishing world. And _no one_ will ever question your commitment or right to be there."

Andy watched the couple leave. That revelation had been one too many. Andy felt her brain was going to melt. She slumped against the wall now that there was no one to see her and put her head on her knees. She had a lot to think about.

* * *

Earlier that day:

Andy hurriedly exited the lower level Metro Platform off of 47th St and Sixth Ave along with the bustling morning crowd. A warm breeze greeted her as she rushed down over to the Starbucks nearest her job for Miranda's regular order. Seeing the line in the shop, she veered down the street to the Coffee-holic java shop instead. She was running a tad behind schedule because of an early morning argument with her boyfriend Nate, It wasn't Starbucks but Andy didn't want Miranda to get on her case about the coffee being late. Again.

Rushing through the early morning tide of coffee seekers, Andy once again cursed her live-in. She didn't know what to do with him. Since the fashion makeover that Nigel had orchestrated, things had been strained between them. Her job at _**Runway**_ took up more of her free time than her job at the school paper and Nate seemed to take it badly.

 _Andy had called ahead to let Nate, Lily and Doug know that she would be running late to their night out. So when she arrived at the bar, they weren't surprise by her tardiness. She came bearing gifts for everyone as an apology and she was just settling down to relax and enjoy herself when her phone rang._

 _"I've got it," Nate declared snatching the phone from Andy before she could check the number. He ignored the surprised, half-hearted protestation that fell from her lips. A queer, self congratulatory look crossed his face as he announced, "Yep. Yep, it's the Dragon Lady."_

 _"Let me talk to her," Lily took the phone he casually handed her, overriding Andy's increasingly boisterous protestations. The phone rang again and Andy became more frantic. Lily playfully tossed the ringing device over to a laughing Doug like they were the tail ends in a game of keep away._

 _"I've got to answer it!" Andy said nearly in a frenzy, climbing almost on top of him to reach the phone before the ring tone sounded again, "Give it! Damn it, give me it!" She wrestled it away from him and ignored her friends as they snickered in the background._

 _"Hi, Miranda?" She answered breathlessly into the phone. She listened to the woman's instructions pulling her back to work. "Uh huh, I'm leaving right now," Andy agreed and started packing up her things. She didn't really want to be around her friends anymore they could be such assholes sometimes._

Nate was always doing stuff like that lately; undermining her job. He was always on her about the new hours she was keeping or the new clothes she wore. But at the same time, she didn't complain about his working late or that he didn't even ask her if she wanted to go out with him and their friends anymore. Andy had tried to explain that it was only for a year. That she had to make sacrifices to get where she wanted to be. She didn't think he was even listening anymore, and she was tired of talking.

New York's Sixth Avenue had a couple of names. Officially, "The Avenue of the Americas" was the address that the Post Office delivered mail to. Colloquially, Sixth Avenue was also known as "Skyscraper Alley". Either way, the busy section of the city hosted buildings of international style from 40th all the way up to the beginning of Central Park at 59th Street.

The buildings that lined the street rose to towering heights, several reaching more than 500ft high. During her more whimsical moments, Andy could look up and imagine that they truly 'scraped the sky'. And holding reign over them all was the News Corporation Building which housed the Elias-Clark Publishing House. Although the News Corporation Building was not the tallest of the buildings lining the avenue, that honor went to the Exxon building, it was the one with the most power.

Andy gazed at the sleek, glassy surface and straight bold lines of the building that encompassed the world famous _**Runway**_ magazine publication. Its revolving doors moving the early morning crowd into and out of the building like blood being pumped into and out of a beating heart. The Elias-Clark was a giant in the media world. As a media empire with influences that spanned both the literary and visual globe, it ran head on with some of the most influential conglomerates in the world and surpassed several others. And a lot of its power came from its flagship publication: _**Runway**_ fashion magazine.

Andy had been working at _**Runway**_ for a little over two months as a second personal assistant to its editor-in-chief, Miranda Priestly. Miranda steered the Elias-Clark publication with a firm hand and expected things to be done to an almost insanely exacting degree. She didn't care if it seemed impossible. She didn't care what you had to do to complete the task. She expected the task to be done before she told you to do it and then to have it done to her satisfaction.

There were reasons, after all, why Miranda Priestly had gained the sobriquets "Dragon of Runway" and "The Devil in Prada". Andy had been told several times that a million girls would kill to have her position, but she often thought that it was propaganda used to excuse the beautiful, older woman's terrible behavior. After all, people weren't machines. It didn't hurt to say 'Please' or even 'Thank you' once in a while. And how hard was it to remember her name?

From rumors she'd heard, Miranda's second assistants had a ridiculously short turnover period. One rumor, floating around the floors, wasn't sure whether Miranda had fired an assistant within an hour of approving the girl for hire or whether she had quit. In any case, speculation had the poor ex-assistant being dragged out of the building by security.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, Andy ran a hand across her bangs and 'girded her loins'. She only had to survive another ten months. Once her year was up, she could have her pick of where she wanted to work in the publishing field next. Andy strode forward and stepped into the dragon's lair. Ten minutes later, Miranda arrived and Andy wished that she hadn't scoffed at the chance to work for _**Auto Universe**_ when HR had offered it to her.

Andy was just taking her jacket off when Miranda swept through the doors to her personal offices with Emily, the first assistant, in tow. Her walk was all natural predator. She stalked across the room wearing heels, inches higher than Andy thought she could manage. Her makeup was impeccable as always and Andy couldn't help but notice how good Miranda looked in the black and grey pinstriped Bill Blass pantsuit she wore. Andy smiled unconsciously, Miranda could be an older version of those models that were featured on the cover of her magazine.

Andy shook herself out of the daze she had fallen into, looking around quickly to see if either of the women had caught her inattention. Neither of them were laughing at her, so she guessed that they hadn't been paying any attention to her lapse of concentration. Andy just managed to move the coffee tray out of the way as Miranda casually dumped her coat and bag on top of Andy's desk in one smooth motion never stopping her machine gun barrage of instructions.

"...Cancel the eight-thirty with Beijing. Move the run-through forward half an hour." Miranda fired off quietly, "Tell Jocelyn that I want those D. Xiu footwear prints by one no make it noon. Push back the meeting with Irvin until three. Remind Cara that the twins will be at practice after school so not to expect them until four-fifteen. That's all."

Emily peeled off having received her last instruction. Andy felt a rush of adrenaline surge through her system as she stepped alone into the office with Miranda's cup of coffee. Miranda was at her desk, already sorting through the paperwork that littered its surface. The coffee cup was swept up to her lips almost before Andy could place it down in its customary position on the desk.

Andy turned quickly to leave, mind lingering on the image of those lips wrapping around the lip of the cardboard cup's cap. She tried, instead, to focus on the initial task-list that Emily would have already typed up for her to do.

"Emily." Miranda said softly and Andy winced. The tone of her voice more than anything told Andy that the mercurial woman wasn't pleased by something. 'Still,' Andy thought, 'was it really so hard to address her by her given name?'

"Yes, Miranda?" Andy inquired, because no other response would have been acceptable.

"What is this?" Miranda placed the coffee gently down at the edge of her desk as if it were a particularly dangerous item.

The careful, precise action made Andy feel apprehensive, and she was hesitant in answering. "Coffee from Coffee-holic on 49th street."

"How hard is it to bring me a decent cup of coffee? I'm not asking for the stars, am I?" Miranda pursed her lips, and Andy got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the look of disgust that crossed her face. "Don't order from there again," came the quiet command as blue eyes pierced Andy with a look. "Remove that," _that_ obviously being the coffee. "And get me another," _from the usual place_ went unsaid. "That's all."

Andy walked quickly over to the desk and lifted up the cup noting the annoyed exasperation that flashed over Miranda's face before the usual unreadable wall slammed down on her facial expressions. Turning, Andy high-tailed it out of the office with the offending cup of coffee and to the elevators. She didn't realize she was still carrying it until she exited on the ground floor.

Andy didn't see a reason to throw away a perfectly good cup of coffee. If she was already being brought to the rug for something as simple as coffee from a different shop, she knew she'd need the caffeine boost. Andy popped the cap off, took a quick sip... and nearly spit it right back out. The coffee, if you could call it that, was horrible. Instead of the rich java that she had smelled when she stepped into the quaint little shop, she apparently had been given something akin to motor oil sludge. She didn't think that she had ever had anything quite as bad outside of a...well, actually, she didn't think that she'd ever had something so bad.

'No wonder Miranda gave me that look.' Andy thought as the cup immediately found its way into the nearest trash bin, 'She probably thought I was trying to poison her.'

As the day continued, Miranda was in scathingly fine form, and Andy, it seemed, was destined for failure. Andy found herself struggling with the number of things that Miranda required from her. Hour after hour, task after task, Andy found that that it was always one thing.

" _Emily," Miranda addressed Andy from the doorway of her office. "Get me Patrick._

 _"But Miranda," she started, "Patrick's on a plane going over the Alps." Andy swallowed nervously at the glare she received as she tried a different tact, "There's no reception." Miranda continued to stare, her eyebrow arched, waiting. Andy bit her lip and checked her watch. She did some quick calculations, "He'll land in about six hours. I can... I'll put him through." Miranda rolled her eyes before ducking back into her office and Andy blew out a sigh of relief as that shapely form disappeared from view once again._

After another.

 _Andy ran down the street waving a red leather Lacroix leash wildly in the air, "Whoa, girl! Whoa! Patricia!" Patricia, Miranda's two hundred pound, pure bred Saint Bernard, had barreled over her and ran out the door of the vet's office just as Andy was putting on her leash and was now calmly trotting down Madison toward Central Park. Andy had lost a shoe somewhere on 54th and Madison and tried in vain to walk and undo the other heel's strap at the same time so she could catch up with the damn dog._

After another.

" _Shit! Shit!" She muttered the curses under her breath as the computer in front of her proceeded to freeze and then sputter, intermittently. The schedule that Emily had arranged for Miranda flickered briefly before the screen went blue. "Oh, no." Andy said, "No, no, no. Please..."_

 _"What did you do now?" Emily whispered, eying her suspiciously from her desk across the aisle._

 _"I don't know!" Andy replied, pushing down on the Ctrl + Alt + Delete buttons repeatedly, hoping that it would reset the computer and fix the problem. It didn't. The blue screen of death continued to taunt her._

 _"Well, stop pounding on it like it'll cough up a candy bar and call tech support before Miranda-"_

 _"Emily?" Came the soft voice that sent a shiver down Andy's spine. She absolutely did not want to admit that the shiver wasn't a bad thing. She looked to the real Emily to see if the call was actually for the 1st assistant. Emily studied her face for a moment with a strange expression on her face like she had just figured something out._

 _Andy thought that Emily might decide to have pity on her and would explain what had happened to Miranda, but she was disappointed to see the red-head shake her head and point to the open doorway. Emily made a shooing gesture and groaning, Andy stood up from her desk. She threw one last look of betrayal at the computer and hurried into the editor-in-chief's office._

The tipping point occurred after Miranda returned from her morning meetings.

Miranda crossed the length of the floor from the elevators, Emily hurrying quickly after to her own desk. "Where are the prints for the D. Xiu?" Miranda called from her office.

Emily sat down at her desk long enough to grab her purse from a locked drawer. It was time for her lunch. She left the computer running since a Tech Guy had taken over Andy's and Emily had been out with Miranda all morning. Emily shot a glance at Andy and then to the office Miranda had just entered. Taking the hint, Andy stood and walked over to the door.

"Jocelyn called while you were out." Andy began tentatively as Miranda glanced over appraisingly to her, "The lab isn't finished with the prints. There was something about fixing the problem," She paused and thought about it, "or a problem with the fixing solution."

Miranda rolled her eyes as if in benediction to a higher power. "Can someone please tell me why I have to deal with incompetence day after day? Why aren't they using the..." Miranda stopped and calmly sat back in her chair. "Tell Jocelyn that she has until 2pm, no later, to have those prints on my desk, or I will have words with her."

Andy nodded, and started to back away when Miranda stopped her. "What time did Jocelyn call you with this message?"

"About eleven."

"So you've known that there was a problem for two hours?"

"You were out of the office. I thought she would be able to get the prints in on time," she said, remembering Jocelyn's call. The woman had been sure that she would be able to turn in the prints on time, and Andy had believed her. Andy didn't think Miranda would want to hear about another problem from Andy considering the day she was having. So she decided to save the message until Miranda was completely out of her morning meetings.

"Oh, yes because you have _so_ much experience in the publishing field." Miranda dismissed with a snort. "What was it you used to do? Edit a _college_ newspaper?" Miranda asked rhetorically. She swung her chair side to side and her words were laced with annoyance, "If you had any sense you would have called Emily. She would have relayed to me the problem and I would have already determined an adequate resolution which would have allowed Jocelyn to deliver my prints to me on time." Miranda stopped swaying and stared at Andy, her displeasure plain on her face as she coldly mocked, "If you had only _thought_..."

Throughout her tongue-lashing, Miranda's voice had barely risen above a whisper. Andy could feel tears well in her eyes but she refused to give in. She was upset, frustrated and tired. The day had been full to brimming with a list of things that needed to be done immediately, the clipped words that found error with everything she did and the droning of a phone that had to be answered in the interim. Andy was so very tired and fed up with everything that she found herself barely hanging on to her temper. She knew she had to leave, now, before she said something that would cost her, her job.

"That's all," Miranda dismissed with a wave, going back to her work. Andy turned on her heel quickly and walked out.

* * *

That night:

"Nate? I'm home," silence greeted her as she opened the door to a dark apartment, "Nate?" Andy huffed out a tired sigh, letting the front door slip shut behind her. It was closer to ten than nine. Lately, it was always closer to ten by the time Andy finished everything that Miranda required her to do. Andy felt exhaustion saturate every pore in her body.

After Emily tore into her, Andy had been quiet the rest of the day. She felt contemplative and thoroughly chastised. She kept expecting Emily to bring up her rant in the Green Room, but Emily didn't rehash the event. In fact, Emily acted as if nothing at all had happened. She just seemed to expect Andy to 'get on with it', treating Andy the same way she had before she had verbally bitch slapped Andy with her own version of Nigel's speech.

She slipped off her heels, wincing at the chill of the cold hardwood floor against her aching feet. She leaned against the closed door, steadying herself. She raised a foot and bracing it against the opposite knee, slid a thumb firmly along the tightened tendon that made up the arch of her foot. She could feel the firm pressure ease the strained tendons and started to relax. She repeated the action to her other foot before hobbling slightly into the bedroom to change.

Andy padded out a little while later feeling much better. She was barefooted, dressed in a pair of cotton workout shorts and a threadbare Northwestern hoodie. She had also taken the time to scrub off her makeup and had pulled her long hair into a sloppy but manageable ponytail.

A quick trip to the kitchen procured for her a glass of wine, which she sipped as she popped a frozen dinner into the microwave. Nate probably would have been struck speechless, if he'd seen her pull one of those out. 'But then again,' came the thought, 'Nate isn't here to judge me.'

The beep of the microwave timer pulled Andy's attention away momentarily while she set out her dinner in the living room. Andy ate but she felt like she was on autopilot as she worried at the problem like a loose tooth. She didn't really want to think about it but she knew she couldn't continue ignoring the difficulties she was having in her relationship. Andy and Nate had been together for a long time before they had moved in together and she could feel that neither one of them were happy with things the way they were.

Truthfully, Andy wasn't really all that surprised to find that Nate had gone out for the evening. He had been doing that with more, and more frequency as the months went by. He was rarely at the apartment when she was anymore. When he was, they barely spoke except to argue about the strain Andy's job was placing on their relationship.

Afterward, they'd have makeup sex or Nate would storm out of the apartment for hours on end, not returning until very late at night or early morning. Lately, the latter event happened more often. Andy was rather relieved that Nate was out and she didn't have to deal with the drama. But she knew she would have to speak with him soon because, as it stood their relationship wasn't healthy anymore.

Soft snores rose from the couch where Andy had fallen into a light doze. The sporadic, flickering from the muted television screen faded against the brightening glow of the pale pre-dawn sky that seeped through curtained windows. The sound of the front door unlocking woke Andy. Her blurry eyes opened a crack to see Nate entering. She sat up from the couch to greet him, noticing as she turned towards him, the clock on the DVD steadily glowing the time. It was one in the morning.

"Hey, baby," Nate slurred his words slightly as he sat down next to Andy on the couch. He leaned in for a kiss and Andy could smell alcohol, the scent of another woman's perfume on his skin, and the musky scent of sex. Disgusted, she turned her head to the side so that he only managed to brush his lips against her cheek.

"Hey. What's wrong?" He asked, reaching to pull her into an embrace. Andy pushed off his arms and stood from the couch. She was so mad at him right now. Her fist curling and uncurling at her sides. She never thought that he would so far as to sleep with another woman.

"I'm going to the bedroom." She stepped around him, brushing aside his reaching hands. "You're sleeping on the couch." Nate seemed to realize that something was wrong but Andy ignored his contrite pleas and demands to talk. "Not now, Nate," she retorted as she made her way to the bedroom doorway.

"Andy? Please," he said. She looked back at him. "I _miss_ you." He hovered on the other side of the couch, his hand reaching for her.

"I miss you too, Nate," She said. The bedroom door closed with a sense of finality.


	2. Part 2

Part 2:

The discovery of Nate's indiscretion a month ago had made the decision for her about their relationship simple. That morning, when Andy had gotten up to speak with him, she found that he'd already left the apartment. A hastily scrawled note let her know that he was staying with a friend for a while to give them "some space to think". Andy threw the scrap of paper into the garbage. Nate had cheated on her; Andy didn't need space to think about it. As the song went, 'it was all over but the crying'.

She made a quick call to Runway. Emily cut into her rambling explanation of why Andy wanted the weekend off before the Andy could get very far. The red-head informed Andy that she would handle the re-scheduling and notify Miranda, if their boss inquired, of the change. Then, Emily had promptly hung up before Andy could thank her. Andy took it in stride and decided that she would use the weekend to re-access her goals, but Friday was for telling her friends about her change in status.

Doug was, unfortunately, at a company retreat and couldn't be reached for another week, but Lily had blown a gasket when Andy told her about Nate's cheating, and the subsequent break-up. Andy had invited her over for a girls' night in. She didn't feel like going out, but she didn't want to be alone either. Andy didn't think she had ever even _heard_ of some of the words that came out of the shorter woman's mouth, before Lily had spouted them off. It made her grateful that her best friend was still in her corner.

Andy smiled every time she remembered Lily's censor-worthy tirade about Nate's inconsiderate behavior following on the heels of her demands to have more girl-time. Because apparently, if Andy had spent more time with her best friend aka Lily, then "this wouldn't have happened". Andy had drunk quite a bit that night and was considering whether or not she should feel insulted when Lily continued.

"I mean," she stated, unperturbed by the peeved look on Andy's face, "if you had spent more time with me, then I could have told you that you prefer the girls…"

That comment surprised a laugh of disbelief out of Andy, "God! You are so drunk!"

"I know you are, but what am I?" Lily sing-songed back to her.

Lily straightened up, suddenly serious even in her drunken state. "Well, you don't have to worry about that asshole Nate anymore," Lily said succinctly, as she laid on the couch in Andy's living room. Her face flushed with indignation (and wine) on Andy's behalf, she slurred slightly, "You and I can go out, an' hook you up with a nice girl. An' if I see him again, Imma kick him in the balls."

"Lily," Andy replied, touched, "Thanks."

"Well, no- no matter what anyone says," Lily began leaning over to where Andy sat on the floor. Her speech slid into baby talk, "I still wuv you." She smooshed Andy's cheeks together between her palms, and kissed her loudly on the forehead, before giggling uproariously. Andy just shook her head in amusement at her friend's antics, glad that Lily was such a good friend. Then, they spent the rest of the night companionably watching terrible D-rated movies, drinking lots of wine, and eating lots of junk food; calories be damn. She promised herself that she would to try to get together with the other woman more often.

Andy spent the rest of the weekend trying to work out her goals. The long term was easy. Andy wanted to write front page articles about class struggles and discrimination in America, or uncover multimillion dollar white collar fraud at work within the hearts of corporate giants. She wanted those articles to appear in publications such as the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and Newsweek. She did not just want to kick anthills to see what would happen. She wanted to effect change in her own way. She wanted to be in a position where her writing could change minds, and influence US Policy. She wanted to direct attention to the injustices still happening in the world. And, Andy reasoned, if she could win a Pulitzer or two while doing that, then great.

Convincing herself that her job at **Runway** was what Andy actually needed in the short term was a much harder task. Emily claimed that there was more to Miranda than the surface showed, but Andy never saw any evidence of that. She often found herself trying to figure out the enigmatic woman, but never saw anything more than a self-entitled woman who had seemingly proclaimed herself the embodiment of fashion. It had been frustrating coming to the realization that Emily was right. The job was all about Miranda.

It was about taking on ridiculous tasks that seemingly didn't matter, and completing them as quickly as humanly possible, then, to do it all over again 'just because' her boss ordered her to, and it was her job. The end. No more or less. Andy didn't know if she could perform her job to the exacting standards demanded by the beautiful and enigmatic Miranda Priestly. But eventually, Andy came to the conclusion that she was honestly willing to try.

Andy went into work the following Monday with renewed optimism for her job. However, following a brief slow period, the following weeks had been some of the most mentally and physically trying of her life. Every tiny, shit-task that could be passed off to her had been. Andy swore that there wasn't one inch of New York that she hadn't seen. Twice. She spent her days trying to keep up with Miranda's list of demands, and her nights trying to figure out why she was still stubbornly holding on to a job she still felt ill-suited for. After six hectic, chaotic, mind-numbingly exhausting weeks, of what Andy could only conclude was a form of reparation for previous wrongs, her work life was just now easing up again.

Initially, working at a fashion magazine had been one of the last things that she thought that she'd ever do. Andy had hoped to get an entry level job with one of New York's many newspapers but none of them, even the smaller weekly or monthly periodicals, were hiring. Still, she had her part of the rent to pay, so when Elias Clark HR called and offered her a job, Andy had jumped at the opportunity. It was a last minute phone call that had Andy interviewing without knowing anything about **Runway** , its consumer base or its editor-in-chief.

Meeting Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-chief of **Runway** magazine for the first time had been a lesson in what someone with power and control looked like. A text message received by the first assistant of Miranda's impending arrival had thrown the entire department into a symphony of chaos. And when the woman finally strode off the elevator, Andy had felt her jaw drop a little barely able to grasp the beauty of the coldly confident older woman.

Andy still didn't really know how she had gotten the job as personal assistant. Another girl wouldn't have been such a drain on resources. The first questions asked during the short interview had highlighted the fact that Andy knew nothing about Miranda 'Queen of Fashion' Priestly and the world she ruled. Her contempt at Andy's negative replies had been quite clear: Andy didn't fit within the **Runway** Empire.

Although at the time, Miranda had seemed to like the anonymity that Andy provided; her decision to hire Andy had made little sense from a business point of view. A girl who understood the fashion world would have known the language and culture she was entering. She wouldn't have needed training in both office productivity and fashion politics.

Andy had her prize-winning pieces on the Janitor's union, her ambitions and her work ethics but she was a total novice. She would have to be taught from the ground up to the frustration of all involved. However, the editor must have seen something of value in the hopeful journalist. But while Miranda was many things, Andy was sure she was a business woman first. Even though Emily's claims, that there were deeper depths to their boss than the surface showed, appeared valid, if Andy couldn't learn quickly enough, Miranda would replace her.

* * *

"That won't be a problem." Serena faintly heard Andy trying to bring the call to a conclusion as she strolled into Miranda's outer office with two cups of coffee a little before three. The faint scratching of a pen on paper as some information was scribbled onto a notepad accompanied the clipped, "Yes, I'm writing it down now."

"Andy," Serena greeted the brunette in her cool contralto. The younger woman looked up and sketched a brief wave in greeting before she continued speaking into the headset. Serena took a sip from one of the cups before placing the other on the 2nd assistant's desk. Andy gave her a grateful look, and mouthed 'thank you'.

"Andy?" Serena asked once the call was done. "Do you have a moment?" She leaned a hip against the second assistant's desk carefully avoiding the green and orange folders that were piled off center at the edge.

"Yes," Andy nodded, smiling self-depreciatingly, "As much time as the well intentioned 'well-wishers' will allow."

Serena heard the weight of sarcasm injected into her voice in spite of the smile Andy presented. She sounded little worn out. Serena knew from Emily that run-through callers were on average, annoyingly persistent. With Miranda's capricious personality, Serena suspected that now would be her best chance to speak with Andy today.

Serena had been meaning to speak with Andy at length since the Green Room incident two months ago. She was worried that Andy might have felt alienated because of the revelations that her lover had dropped in Andy's lap. Not that Serena thought that Andy was small-minded, but states like Ohio just did not scream cosmopolitan to her, and it had to be both weird and awkward to learn of her co-workers' lesbian relationship the same time as her own possible homosexual tendencies were subtly pointed out.

She was disappointed that it had taken so long for her to get around to it, as she knew Emily had a habit of bulldozing her way through unpleasant conversations, and Andy had always come across as a bit… innocent? Provincial? Sheltered? But honestly, Miranda kept all her employees busy, so here she was, now, trying to see if all was well.

Sensing that the conversation would require a bit of tact, Serena started the conversation with an easy question, "So... how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Andy replied with a soft shrug.

"That's good. Seeing as it's been four months, and Miranda hasn't fired you, how do you think you like it, here, at _**Runway**_?"

"It's different from what I first expected," Andy said honestly. "But so far, so good. You know Miranda keeps us all busy."

"I know. Emily's talked about it." Serena stated gently, " _ **Runway's**_ special to her."

Andy scoffed a little, "Yeah. I got that message."

Serena noted the reply and probed a little deeper, "And you're getting along alright with Emily?" As soon as the words left her mouth, however, she saw that Andy suspected that something was up. Andy had paused mid nod, and her head tilted contemplatively to the side, her mind having unconsciously picked up the direction of Serena's questions.

The brunette sighed, and reached for her cup of coffee. She took a big sip, moaning in appreciation of the invigorating liquid before responding. "Well, she's not talking to me like I'm a five year old anymore. If that's where you're heading with the questions."

"Sort of," Serena admitted. "Look Andy, I just don't want any hard feelings between the two of you. Emily would never admit it, but she likes you."

Andy waved away her remark, "That's hard to believe sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Serena smiled playfully. Andy leaned back in her chair with a raised eyebrow.

"She does," the blonde stated seriously. "Like you, I mean. Miranda's sort of a hot button for Emily." She explained, glad that the conversation had worked its way around to the topic she wanted discuss.

"And I pushed it," Andy said, mockingly.

"You pushed it," Serena confirmed. "She's passionate about _**Runway**_ , and she feels that she owes Miranda."

At Andy's questioning frown, Serena shook her head, "Why that is? You'll have to ask her yourself. I won't tell her secrets." Andy gave a grudging nod of acceptance, and Serena continued, "The point is..."

"She was acting like a child," Andy said sarcastically.

"Yes," Serena said. "But so were you." She smirked at the surprised look adorning Andy's face, "And for lack of a better phrase: You tried to _break_ one of her toys. Please try to be more careful."

"You know how weird that sounds? Miranda isn't a toy," Andy stated.

"Please, Andy," Serena said, again.

Andy swung her chair back and forth a couple of times restlessly. "Anything else?"

"Not from my side," Serena took a sip of her cooling coffee. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Andy opened her mouth to answer when the phone rang. "Guess you've been saved by the bell."

Andy smiled easily before saying, "Hello. Miranda Priestley's office," into the office phone.

Serena could tell that the caller was going to be a particularly persistent one when she heard Andy repeat several variations of the word "no" within minutes of answering the phone. Having set aside time for this conversation, Serena was not in any hurry to leave so she sat, and observed Andy.

The 2nd assistant handled the caller well. Serena suspected that she herself would not be as apt at fielding calls for Miranda. Unlike Andy, and surprisingly Emily, she didn't have nearly enough patience. At the thought of her girlfriend, Serena looked towards Miranda's office.

The wall facing the outer office and door were glass, and Serena could see the meeting taking place. Emily took notes while Nigel and Jocelyn appeared to be having a dialogue about one of the shirts on the clothes rack. Serena was no expert, her forte was makeup, but it looked like it was from one of Vera Wang's 'Spring' collections.

Emily was beautiful as always. The late afternoon light caught the hints of gold in her hair, and seemed to set the air around her into a halo of flame. She sat studiously, almost primly, although Serena knew her as anything but prim and proper in the privacy of their bed. Miranda, of course, held court from behind her desk, willingly allowing her employees to quibble about some point of aesthetics concerning one design over another. Serena never had any trouble seeing what Andy, and to some extent Emily, saw in Miranda, the older woman unconsciously oozed sex, but she just couldn't compare in Serena's mind with her Emily.

"They just started the meeting," she heard Andy say a few minutes later as she hung up. Serena gave a soft, absent-minded "Mmm" in acknowledgement of the words spoken to her as Emily glanced up from her notes. The red-head noticed her and gave a faint smile, which Serena returned with a small wave of greeting, before her lover focused once more on the meeting and her notes.

"Well, I guess I know who you're _really_ here to see." Serena heard Andy continue, "Down girl."

The teasing note evident in Andy's voice drew Serena's attention away from her Emily-gazing, and to the brunette behind the desk. The blonde gave Andy a curious look, trying to ascertain any malice behind the comment but couldn't find any. Raising her eyebrow in surprise, as the younger woman ducked her head, and bit her bottom lip in an obvious effort to suppress a grin, an amused crooked smile danced across Serena's face as she contemplated Andy for a moment. She watched as a light blush feathered across the other woman's cheeks while Andy avoided her eyes. Standing abruptly, she gathering a small stack of folders from the crowded desktop.

Her eyes followed Andy as the brunette filed the small stack in the appropriate drawers of the filing cabinet behind her desk. Serena was rather pleased that Andy was comfortable enough with her to tease her about her relationship with Emily. She waited until the brunette sat back down, and start working again. She waited until Andy let her guard down.

"Actually," Serena purred and saw Andy stiffen at the implication behind her teasing rejoinder, "she really wasn't the one I was here for. _You_ on the other hand..."

Andy looked up at her with a hesitant expression on her face. "I'm sure she would be amenable to sharing, if I asked her…" Serena leaned down so that her face was on level with Andy's.

"Please tell me you're joking?" Andy asked eyes wide.

Serena's sultry smirk dissolved into an amused grin at Andy's earnest plea. The sight of Andy taking a deep relieved breath turned the grin into a full out laugh. "Don't joke like that!" Andy said, earnestly. "Emily would kill me! I would _literally_ be dead."

"No worries," Serena wiped the stray tears from her eyelashes, "I would never cheat on _meine liebe_."

"I'm sure," the brunette stated emphatically, nodding her head for emphasis. "But I don't want to get on her bad side again." Andy quirked the corner of her mouth in self-abasement, "She's a little scary." Serena laughed again.

* * *

 _It's so quiet,_ Andy thought lying in bed. Her eyes were closed and she listened as her breath seemed to echo faintly in the empty room. _In. Out. In. Out._ Her thoughts kept cadence with her breathing, pulling night cooled air into her lungs, and then letting it go again.

It's been three months since Andy found out about Nate's indiscretions. After living with him for so long, Andy still wasn't used to sleeping alone. She still expected to fall asleep to the counter rhythm of Nate's soft snoring; to wake to his sleepy muttering. She still expected to feel the sudden heat of an arm or leg brush against her own limbs at random times throughout the night as she and Nate moved towards and away from each other in sleep. She wasn't used to the stillness. She wasn't used to the quiet.

Andy opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She had been up for hours already; listening to the muted sounds of her neighbors in the apartment above her and the early morning traffic on the streets below. The inky, blue-grey shadows that lingered from the night before had been chased away by pink-gold rays as dawn edged over the horizon. _It is so quiet._

Andy rolled away from the empty side of the bed as the ringing of her cellphone broke through the silence, its piping jingle prompting an immediate response. If Nate were there she thought, remembering other phone calls, he'd no doubt describe her actions as Pavlovian. As quickly as the realization came she dismissed it, Nate's opinion didn't matter anymore. It was one of the things Andy was happy to get used to.

The day after Nate left, Andy had arrived to work on time and surprisingly, she did it without racing to get there. It was a novelty. Andy wasn't guilt-tripped into staying at the apartment longer in the morning. She didn't have to worry about what he'd say if she was late coming home at night. It was the first time in months that Andy felt that she could breathe easily.

That was why, even knowing that it was most likely work related, Andy accepted the call at 5:15 in the morning. She fully expected the caller to be either Miranda or Emily with a demand that had to be taken care of immediately, and which couldn't wait until Andy got to _**Runway**_. She was not disappointed.

"Andrea," said the voice on the other end of the line by way of greeting. Andy could hear the clack of heels in the background and she guessed that Emily was probably already at _**Runway**_. "Stop by Miranda's lawyers," she continued, the crisp British accent sharper than normal, "they have a package for her to look over."

"Good morning to you too, Emily," Andy said wryly as she pushed back the bed sheets and headed for her closet. She turned on the phone's speaker before continuing, "You know that's what most people say when they call to wake up their co-workers first thing in the morning." Andy heard Emily snort in amusement before she replied.

"Yes. Yes. Good morning. Whatever." Andy rolled her eyes at the retort. "I don't have time for pleasantries today. Miranda just called me and she's in a snit this morning."

"What happened?" Andy asked, quickly selecting an acceptable top and bottom. "She was fine when she left yesterday evening.

"I haven't the faintest," Emily replied seriously. Andy heard the faint ding of the elevators. "Look I have to go. If you want to keep your job though, you'll get here with those papers quickly."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm-" Andy didn't even blink when Emily hung up before she finished her sentence.

Hours later, Andy found herself back at her desk having delivered the lawyer's package to Miranda and finished all the pertinent objectives on her morning list. She sat back after ending her call to move up the run-through and had the realization that she had a rare moment of leisure. She thought about visiting Nigel in the Art Department since Emily was at her desk working on something for Miranda, but with the editor due back in the office any minute Andy couldn't justify being away from her desk, especially since he would be attending the meeting shortly.

She reflected that it had been quite some while since she'd done any in-depth research; the type that she might do for an investigative report. Working for _**Runway**_ and Miranda, however, didn't leave a lot of free time for data collection. Investigation, though, had been one of the aspects of journalism that she loved most when writing. Even as a child watching mystery cartoon re-runs on TV, the five W's: knowing the 'who', 'what', 'where', 'when' and 'why' of something had always been the biggest draw. As she got older, the mysteries got bigger, and her approach to them had changed, but the feelings from solving the mysteries never altered. The bigger the mystery, the bigger the rush.

The last time Andy had time to do such in-depth inquires had been junior year in college, when she was first allowed to do real news rather than a feature article. Eager to make her mark, Andy chose to tackle the rumor of an impending university union strike. When she was done, she wrote an exposition for the Northwestern Daily that won a national collegiate competition.

Emily's words to her about their enigmatic boss came back to her, and Andy found herself pulling up a search engine. Emily claimed there was more to Miranda than the surface showed, but Andy had never seen that. _Maybe a little research was in order,_ Andy decided, _to find out if The Ice Queen was just a non sequitur or if the person matched the persona_.

Andy had always believed that the award for the union strike piece had been given partly based on its comprehensive data gathering. Andy had spent a month gathering data and sources, then filtering through all the innuendos and the blame game backstabbing being played by both sides to discover the truth behind the rumors of unfair working conditions and university strong-arming. Andy had gotten very good at interviews for that piece, but if she had learned anything from Miranda over the months of working with her, it was that you never asked her any questions. Andy would couldn't go at this directly, Miranda was the exact definition of inaccessible.

Andy's interview with Runway was an example of that. It had been nothing like she expected. Andy had not really wanted the job, but when Human Resources had called and offered either _**Runway**_ or _**Auto Universe**_ , Andy had chosen the fashion magazine. It was that last minute phone call that had Andy interviewing without knowing anything about _**Runway**_ , its consumer base or its editor-in-chief.

Luckily for Andy, despite not knowing those things, Miranda had seemed to be amused with the anonymity offered. Andy for her part, having gone into the interview and come out with a job regardless of everything, had taken a perverse sort of pride in her lack of knowledge concerning all things fashion. But that bit of positive re-enforcement was working against her now.

What once seemed to be a pro was becoming a hindrance to Andy's job performance. As a 2nd assistant, Andy was expected to be aware of everything relating to the Queen of Fashion's very public persona. The fact that Andy hadn't figured this out until two months in was, at best, annoying. But since Miranda didn't do best case scenarios, it was definitely problematic. And as Emily pointed out, another assistant wouldn't have any trouble getting rid of the problem if Miranda passed down the order.

Dusting off her skills, Andy started with a basic internet search. Typing the editor's name into the search engine yielded 30 pages and more than 298 unique entries. The majority of the entries were for the Editor-in-chief of Runway magazine, but there were one or two for people with sound-alike names. Miranda L. Priest was, according to her Linked-in page, a doctor of dental science while Miranda Priest-Lee was a five year old internet singing phenomenon.

What she learned surprised her. There was so much more than meet the eye concerning the editor. Andy read through page after page of Wikipedia, Political Ticker, Forbes, and several Miranda related entries on NY Magazine's online site. She went through the celebrity gossip sites such as The Gawker and Perez Hilton, and ran across pages and pages of candid shots of Miranda at charity events, fashion galas, and even coming in and out of the Elias Clark building.

But by the sixth entry, Andy realized something was off with everything that she had read. Oddly enough, what caught her attention was what wasn't there. Prior to her joining Runway as a very junior copy-editor, there was absolutely no information about the older woman. None. As in nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. It was surprising, considering the amount of publicity that Page Six of the New York Times, and other gossip rags put out about her.

Andy was able to look up Miranda's hire date by going into the Elias Clark website. It was public information. She found out from Wiki that Miranda had not one, but two ex-husbands, and that the twins were a product of Miranda's first marriage. The Gawker, in one schadenfreude-filled page, declared that ex-husband number three was in the works. Biography's websites related Miranda's meteoric rise from virtual obscurity to become one of the most powerful women New York, but even those articles didn't go into details about her pre- _ **Runway**_ past.

Like Pallas Athena, Miranda seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere, fully grown and wearing perfectly tailored Haute Couture, a modern-day goddess of fashion. _It's a mystery_ , Andy mused quietly to herself. It was as if Miranda Priestly hadn't existed before 1972. Her smile widened, Andy never could resist a mystery.

* * *

"Emily," Miranda addressed the redhead as she walked quickly by the red-head's desk. Emily looked up eagerly from her computer as she finished typing the last sentence of her work. "I want you at the run-through to take notes for the Van Du Ques line."

Miranda's presence drew Andy away again from yet another fruitless internet search. Andy watched as Miranda, who seemed to be in a good mood, sashayed through the door. Her eyes following the older woman through the glass window that made up the entire front wall of the Editor-in-chief's office.

Andy had been searching on and off, more off than on unfortunately due to time restraints, for information on Miranda Priestly before 1972. She unfortunately found out all sorts of information about Miranda's ex-husbands, and her soon to be ex, but so far, nothing on the subject of her obsession. And Andy was beginning to suspect that she was slightly infatuated with her boss. _No,_ Andy frowned slightly at the thought, _I just like solving a good mystery._

Andy had determined that Miranda must have legally changed her name at some point because she couldn't find anything on Miranda Priestly before she started at Elias-Clarke. She was aware that some people changed their names for various reasons, from 'I just don't like it' to religious conversions, so the name change was no real surprise. Still, Andy was in contact with the Office for Vital Statistics of New York in the hopes of coming up with something concrete. The official that she had been in contact with promised to get back with her by the end of the week.

"Yes, Miranda," Emily responded smiling, her posh accent doing little to hide the excitement in her voice. She straightened her desk and grabbed up her electronic tablet and stylus as the elevator doors opened, and Nigel walked out. He nodded to Andy's small wave but was obviously in a hurry. He was followed by two women and a man pushing dress carts loaded with designer clothing into the office. Andy looked forlornly at their entrance. She hadn't been allowed to sit in on a run-through since her first disastrous attendance, when Miranda cuttingly informed Andy about how much she didn't know about the influence of the fashion world.

"Andrea? Phones," Miranda directed, walking out of the office again. She took a stack of folders from Emily as she finished gathering them, and plopped them on Andy's already crowded desk. "And try to do something with these."

"Yes, Miranda," Andy replied automatically. She watched Miranda head to the run-through before dragging one of the folders off the pile. It contained pages of itemized invoices for a photo shoot. The invoices still needed to be entered electronically onto a monthly spreadsheet compiled by Emily and Andrea for Miranda. Then, a hard copy of the invoices needed to be filed with the accounts department for both Runway magazine, and Elias Clark publishing.

"Remember," Emily rounded her desk making a quick stop by Andy's desk, "Miranda is not to be disturbed by anything short of an emergency with the twins during the run-through."

"Alright," Andy nodded. She was determined to surprise both Miranda and Emily by having everything done by the end of the run-through. "I should have this all done before you guys get out." Her smile faltered slightly when Emily raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"Today? I truly doubt it," Emily said as smirk gracing her face. She gave a little laugh before heading in with the others, "But have a go at it anyway, won't you?"

Andy frowned. What was happening today? It wasn't like Miranda had left her with a lot of work. She'd had more complicated tasks to carry out in less time before. How hard was it to file the small pile of invoices by the time the meeting over?

Half an hour later, Andy was cursing both Miranda generally and Emily specifically under her breath while the office phone rang nearly non-stop. Miranda, apparently, had caused some kind of stir this morning by tying the **Runway** magazine brand publically to some animal anti-cruelty cause. Now proponents, both for anti-cruelty and against the fashion industry-at-large, were beating down the metaphorical doors to get inside information on what Miranda was doing.

The calls would start, and then there would be a host of them that needed to be fielded.

"No, Miranda was not available for the call. Can I take a message?" Andy often replied to the caller. Every now and then, just to keep it fresh, she'd answer with some variation of "Sorry, Miranda is in a very important meeting at the moment. Could you leave a number and she'll get back to you at her earliest?"

Andy would answer like that for a while then, she'd get a ten or fifteen minute break before the lines would start ringing again. Wave upon wave of incoming, and public relations transferred calls prevented Andy from making much headway on the folders. It was like everyone knew when the worst time to call Miranda was, and still _insisted_ on talking to her.

Halfway through waylaying one particularly insistent caller, Andy decided that there had to be a very special place in hell for coworkers like Emily. Andy never expected any information to be forthcoming from the editor... that just never happened. However, Andy felt that Emily should have warned her about the potential public backlash especially since her parting comments implied that she was well aware of said possible backlash.

About an hour after the run-through was over, Andy was still fielding calls. Miranda called for Andy to alert the department heads for yet another ad-hoc meeting, this one concerning the KRUSH menswear line's change in proprietorship. And as always, needing a fresh coffee, was paramount. Miranda had Emily return to the office to take notes, and Andy was left with a list of tasks to complete and all the previous meeting's notes to type up and correlate.

Andy watched from her desk as the department head members involved with the KRUSH apparel placement flowed into the office minutes after her return with Miranda's coffee. Some looked determined more than anything, while several others had looks of consternation gracing their faces. A few, like Jocelyn and Nigel, had long ago learned to hide their feelings on the premise that showing any feelings, fear especially, was like a ringing dinner bell to a hungry dragon.

* * *

"No, I'm afraid that she's out of the office. Can I take your name and number?" Andy spoke into the phone again.

"This is Stephen. I need to speak with Miranda," came the cultured baritone of Miranda's soon to be ex-husband. Andy remembered the tall, athletic older man from a luncheon that she'd had to attend with Miranda once. They were currently going through a very messy divorce, full of name calling and nasty recriminations, but Miranda and Stephen had looked like a very well put together couple before their separation. Andy was pretty sure that Miranda wouldn't consider anything that Stephen had to say an emergency.

"I'm sorry Mr. Thomplinson." Andy continued pleasantly, "Miranda is in an important meeting. Could I-'

"You could put my wife on the damn phone," he abruptly interrupted. "Tell her that I don't care where she is or what she's fucking doing! These demands are absurd, and I will speak with her now or she'll be hearing from my lawyers!"

Andy found herself angrily standing at his words, "Hey-" She stopped abruptly, biting off the rest of her first response. She took a calming breath. "Mr. Thomplinson..." She started again coming to a decision before she stated pointedly, "It's not going to happen."

There was a shocked pause on the other end of the line where Andy slid in bitingly, forcing the words into a semblance of pleasantry, "I'll tell her you called, sir." She hung up on the vitriol he immediately began to spew out at her with satisfaction.

The phone rang again immediately. For a moment, Andy was undecided as to whether or not she would pick up the call; since working at Runway she had become uncomfortable with ignoring a ringing phone. Andy knew that she would probably get reprimanded for missing a call, but it would be worth it if Stephen was calling back. _Because_ , Andy thought glaring determinedly at the telephone until it stopped ringing, _Mr. Stephen Thomplinson wasn't going to get through to Miranda today, if she had anything to do with it._

"Was that Stephen?"

Startled, Andy looked up to see Miranda giving her an unreadable look. _Think of the Devil..._ Andy's eyes wandered unconsciously over the slender silhouette Miranda presented as she leaned tiredly against the open door frame of her office.

A glance further into the room showed Andy that the others had already left. The sun red in the sky, beginning to set. She was surprised that she hadn't noticed the meeting ending, and people passing by her desk while arguing with Stephen. She worried about how much of the argument the others and, more importantly, Miranda had overheard.

Andy looked down at her desk: the papers scattered across its surface, the empty coffee cup from Serena, her cellphone open to a writing program filled with notes. Then she looked back up at the woman that so many people seemed to revere. Miranda didn't look so iconic in that moment; exhaustion seemed to radiate from each pore, bringing the woman underneath the normally indomitable figure more into focus.

"Yes, Miranda," Andy answered, dutifully. She tried to keep the sullen tone out of her voice. Andy definitely didn't want to be chastised for what she felt was a proper response to a legitimate grievance. _I didn't even tell him to fuck off!_ She thought unhappily.

Miranda walked into the outer office and leaned against Emily's desk. "What did he want?" Her boss asked, quieter than usual. It was quite the feat since Miranda was habitually a very reticent woman.

 _It couldn't be easy going through a messy divorce,_ Andy thought. _Or to act like everything was fine when it couldn't be._ Seeing the woman, and not the boss, maybe for the first time ever, Andy was struck by the realization that maybe it was all for show. Everything that was off-putting about Miranda, from her acerbic criticisms to her ice queen persona, was possibly an act.

Andy opened her mouth to say something ( _Probably something stupid,_ she later reflected) when Andy saw it happen. Miranda pulled at the dregs of her strength reserves, and it was like a steel shutter had been sent careening down. Just like that, the woman was again locked away. The golem replacing her stood taller, no longer leaning against the desk, and the look in her blue eyes was focused.

"Please, take your time." Miranda stated archly, "It's not like I have anything better to do than watch you imitate a fish."

Andy closed her mouth with a snap. Shaking herself out of her stupor, she reported, "He was upset about something, and wanted to speak with you."

"No doubt invoking the all-powerful threat of the lawyer," Miranda said, pursing her lips in disgust. The remark hinted that Miranda knew more occurred during Stephen's phone call than Andy reported.

Unsure if she was speaking rhetorically, or asking a question, Andy hesitantly replied, "Yes. He did mention them during the... conversation." She tried not to smile when Miranda snorted, seemingly amused at the obvious understatement.

Looking lost in thought for a long breathless moment, Miranda finally nodded to Andy before turning towards her office. Andy breathed a quiet sigh of relief at Miranda's retreating form, thankful that she didn't have to elaborate further. "Hold my calls," Miranda ordered, closing the office door nearly silently behind her.


	3. Part 3

Part 3:

The repetitive ringing of the cell phone on the bedside table stirred Andy from sleep. She sleepily leaned over to glance at the time, then turned over and tucked herself deeper into the covers. It was Sunday and much too early to get up, considering that she had spent most of another of her night researching one Miranda Priestly. Besides Sunday was the one day of the week that Andy could escape the chaos that was **Runway** and the mechanisms of its mistress. It was a well-deserved reprieve as far as Andy was concerned, and she meant to take advantage of it.

If she thought about it, which Andy carefully did not do, it had been at least two months since she had jumped head first into her research on the editor. After catching a tiny glimpse of the real Miranda there was no turning back for Andy. She wanted to know more. Andy could admit that, at least to herself.

Whoever was calling was quite persistent, staying on the line long past the customary three or four dial tones. Andy buried her head further beneath the pillows, trying to ignore the urgent demand of the ringtone. Just as Andy was starting to wonder when the voicemail system would pick up the call, the phone went silent. Sighing in audible relief at the returning silence, Andy drifted off again.

The phone rang again, and she found herself reaching out for the irritating sound. Andy could feel the early morning sunlight, behind her closed eyelids, as it spilled through the open curtains of her bedroom window; its brilliance beating against her, wanting her to join the waking world. Andy refused, taking the phone and rolling over. She pulled the covers over her head and bathed in the warm darkness. She pushed send on the phone to accept the call and tucked the ear piece between her head and the pillow.

"Yeah?" Her voice was still groggy with the haze of sleep. There was no reply on the other end of the line and Andy began to drift back off, imagining that she had just dreamed about answering the phone.

"I want you..." Miranda's unmistakably cool tone slipped out of the phone to curl contently around Andy's eardrum causing a shiver to slide down her spine.

"Wha-?" Andy asked unintelligibly. She hastily sat up ignoring the sheet as it fell down in a puddle around her waist. Andy blinked rapidly, squinting against the light that suddenly stabbed into her retinas.

"Wake up, Andrea!" The voice was definitely Miranda's Andy determined, hearing the sharpening of the tone. "I don't have all day." Andy rubbed her free hand over her tired eyes and then through unkempt hair as Miranda started issuing directions. Andy narrowly avoided moaning in frustration as she fell back against her pillows. This was supposed to be her day off.

"The fabric on that futon is all wrong for the colors in the rest of the shot…" Miranda continued as Andy listened to the slight burr that vibrated beneath the rounding of Miranda's _'r'_ s. It was a pleasant little burr, nothing at all patently obvious or even normally noticeable during their everyday interactions. It seemed to say that Miranda was comfortable enough with Andy to relax a little. Thinking about it, Andy knew that Miranda would have probably been upset to find that her assistant even noticed it as much as she did. The woman never seemed to want to give away anything of what she was thinking.

But Andy was tired and she didn't care that she heard it. She was noticing all sorts of things about Miranda's voice now. Like how Andy could tell that Jocelyn's choice in swimwear for the June edition had been a pleasant surprise because of the minute rise in her pitch and that Miranda wasn't at all surprised by Nigel's contribution to the June issue but that her boss was relatively happy with it because Andy didn't hear the tale-tale flattening in Miranda's timbre.

Right then, drowsing sleepily against her pillows, Andy imagined that Miranda was in her office. The cold beauty would be sitting at her glass desk in her throne-like chair, gazing absently out the floor-to-ceiling length windows like a queen surveying her realm. Andy imaginged that Miranda wore the purple swoop neck blouse. It was one that she had seen on the older woman before. It hung off her shoulders exposing pale skin and delicate collar bones. The smokey gray a- line skirt that Andy remembered seeing Miranda wear with the shirt, would show off a toned thigh where the slit parted. It was a distraction everytime the woman sat and crossed her legs. A wide belt would complete the look. It'd accent the ensemble and manage to show off a feminine figure that anyone would have had to be blind not to see.

Andy imagined that a rebellious snowy lock of hair would fall over her forehead; straying too close to her icy blue eyes and Miranda would casually brush it back with graceful fingers to settle again with the rest her perfectly coiffed hair. Then, as another thought about the upcoming issue sparked an idea, Miranda would sweep the blue and silver monogrammed Mont Blanc pen up from the desk blotter and in her curving, arcing handwriting; scrawl the idea down before unconsciously placing the non-business between sharp white teeth. The fingers of the other hand would caress the pendant of the necklace that lay snug between creamy breasts…

Andy startled when Miranda said, "You also need to get those Josse samples and leave them with Johnathan." The vocal inflection that Miranda often used when she was finishing a task-list was very specific and Andy suddenly realized that she had been drifting while listening to Miranda's voice. She hadn't been paying attention to anything that the other woman had said.

"Wait, Miranda?" Andy asked panicking. "Could you-" She needed to find out what Miranda had been saying. Hell, she wanted to remind Miranda that it was Sunday and that she wasn't supposed to be on call. But with a surge of annoyance, followed finally by acceptance, Andy heard Miranda hang up before she could ask anything with a curt, "That's all."

Andy pulled the phone away, the dial tone sounding in her ear. The little phone icon danced and the screen flashed _Call Ended_ in glaring red letters. Andy stared at the phone in disbelief, "Well... shit."

Serena brought the hand stroking down the side of Emily's face to caress along the satin smoothness of the red-head's lips. Emily's tongue wrapped itself around her index finger, pulling it into her warm mouth. The red-head sucked, licked, and nibbled along the trapped digit, and Serena tried not to squirm with the sensations pooling hot and heavy in her lower abdomen.

She smiled, gazing up lovingly at Emily. A gentle breeze came through the open window, and Serena watched fascinated as the late morning sunlight diffused through the billowing sheer curtains, and covered the pale peaches and cream complexion of the beautiful woman above her in a play of light and shadows. Serena's breath came faster, and she knew that Emily was cataloging her reactions from where the red-head straddled her prone, naked form. She enjoyed the playful, teasing sparkle in her love's blue eyes as Emily released the finger she'd held captive before leaning in to kiss her at first gently and then more fully.

Sundays were Serena's favorite day of the week. When she had been a girl, Sundays were spent running wild through the hills above the expansive acres of dense pastoral grasses and rich farmlands that surrounded the city of Horizontina. Her favorite thing to do was climb the trees whose limbs shadowed over the small cataract fed pool that she and her best friends, Martina and Gisele, had found one summer while exploring. Climbing always cumulated in jumping in, and the girls often had to explain why their Sunday best was ruined by the end of the day. Flocks of Saracuras would migrate there from further south by autumn, and Serena enjoyed watching them swim across the calmer parts of the deep pool just as she and her friends had earlier in the year.

Now-a-days, Serena often spent Sundays with Emily. Saturdays might be spent doing various small tasks for Runway: completing the odd job from the previous week or prep-work for the upcoming one. But Sundays had become almost sacrosanct again. Unless there was an emergency, they usually had the day free for themselves. Some Sundays, the two of them never even left the bed.

Emily had left Serena's lips, kissing down her neck to the blonde's collarbones when her cell phone rang. "It's the bloody phone," Emily muttered glancing at the phone where it rested next to the nightstand lamp. It wasn't Miranda calling as far as she could tell; as the red-head had given her boss a separate and distinctive ringtone just for such occasions as these. The problem was that it was one of the ringtones that Emily used for Runway. It could be anyone from Jocelyn to Andy to Nigel. If something were wrong, and Emily didn't pick up… She nipped at the soft skin beneath her mouth in frustration, then quickly licked at the small hurt, and kissed it in apology, "I should get that."

"Just ignore it," Serena whispered breathlessly as _The Flight of the Valkyrie_ faded off into silence. "See? It was nothing." She inhaled sharply when her lover nodded her agreement, and sucked a taut brown nipple into her mouth. Serena closed her eyes, moaning as she gave herself over to the sensation of Emily's tongue laving at the sensitive bit of flesh between her teeth.

Emily had made her way down Serena's body and was torturously licking the delicate skin of one of the blonde's inner thigh when the downstairs buzzer sounded. Loudly. Emily lifted her head up surprised as a voice following the sound of the buzzer called her name from outside the open window. It sounded suspiciously like Andy's.

"Oh, no," Emily moaned with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. "No, no, no, no." She clambered off the bed as Andy's voice rose once again, louder if that was possible, from the street.

Serena watched as her lover threw on a robe on, and marched angrily over to throw open the window further. "This cannot be happening," she groaned in disbelief as her head fell back against the pillow in frustration, "Emily!" The other woman didn't hear her, as she was currently shouting out the window at someone who Serena strongly suspected was their ill-timed co-worker.

Finally, Serena got out of bed and pulled on her robe. She strode across the room to where her wayward lover was, and pulled the shorter woman away from trading insults with Andy who seemed unusually willing to accommodate. "I'll buzz you upstairs, Andy," Serena said poking her head outside, and looking down at the brunette who seemed surprised to have their interplay interrupted.

"It's too early for this, _meine liebe_ ," she chastised Emily gently as she came back inside. "You wanted to entice Andy with the mystery that is Miranda. Did you think that she would not eventually want answers from you?"

"Wait. You think this is about Miranda?" Emily asked surprised.

"Why else would Andy be at your door early on a Sunday morning?" Serena replied, heading into the bathroom, "Now, go let your guest in."

The red head looked stunned for a moment before pouting, and nearly flouncing through the bedroom door to do as she was told. "She's not _my_ guest," Emily called from the outer room, pouting. "I'm not the one who invited the twit up." Still, she obediently pushed the button for the downstairs entry and allowed Andy into the building. Then, she unlocked the door and plopped down on the couch and folded her legs beneath her.

"Were you planning on putting on any clothes before Andy arrives?" Serena inquired coming into the room wearing a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a worn t-shirt. She slid onto the seat next to Emily, and picked up a magazine from the coffee table in front of her. It was not a fashion magazine but **_Time_**. She enjoyed reading their distinctive style of writing the news and political science every now and then.

Emily pouted at her even harder at seeing the blonde fully dressed. "No. Shan't," the red-head stated firmly, before crossing her arms over her chest. The older woman thought that Emily was adorable, but she knew that saying so would only make her lover more difficult to deal with.

Andy was surprised to have Serena pop her head over Emily's shoulder in the middle of their shouting match and invite her up. She hesitated, but when the security door buzzed minutes later Andy hurried to enter. She knew that Emily and Serena were _together_ together of course but for some reason she hadn't really expect to see the blonde at Emily's apartment building so early in the morning.

 _Together, together,_ Andy laughed sardonically. She shook her head chidingly at the direction of her juvenile thoughts. _They're not teenagers necking while their parents are away. They're adults and they're lovers... of course they're at each other's home._ She climbed the stairs up to Emily's landing glad that the couple were at Emily's apartment instead of Serena's since Andy couldn't even begin to figure out where she lived.

She knocked on the apartment door, and pushed it open when she heard someone shout that it was unlocked. Andy poked her head around the door carefully, "Hello?" Her eyes sought, and immediately found her hosts sitting on a couch in the living room area.

"Uh, hi." Andy gave a nervous little wave, the answer to which was Emily rolling her eyes, and huffing out an indignant breath turning away from Andy. Serena smiled ignoring Emily's behavior. The blonde tossed the magazine back onto the table, then stood up to greet her.

"Andy," Serena said. Andy's eye's popped wide open in surprise when the blonde stepped forward and gave Andy a short hug in greeting. She did not miss, Emily's sudden interest in the conversation, nor the way she narrowed her eyes in what Andy hoped was not jealousy. Andy tried to ease out of the hug without drawing attention. Finally, Serena released her, keeping a light, friendly touch on her arm. "What brings you by?"

Looking wearily at the tall blonde, Andy sat at the edge of the cushioned bench opposite the couple. She ignored the smirk edging Serena's lips as well as the frown that Emily was now sporting while she looked back and forth suspiciously between the two. At Serena's gentle prompting, Andy cleared her throat and explained why she was there.

"I'm sorry," Andy finished, "I got distracted and-"

"Miranda was speaking to you," Emily interrupted, confused. This wasn't at all what she thought the brunette came to talk to her about. "What on Earth could have distracted you when she was giving you instructions?" The flush spreading across Andy's cheeks had both Emily and Serena raising eyebrows. "What were you _doing_ when she was on the phone?"

Eyes widening, shocked, Andy was quick to reassure them, "Nothing!" Seeing a hint of disbelief, "No, really. I wasn't doing _that_." Serena smirked and Emily nodded acceptance.

"Okay," the older assistant questioned, "so what had you distracted when you should have been paying bloody attention? Hmm?"

"I don't know. Really. I remember hearing her say something about a futon..."

"Probably the Louis Vuitton," Emily frowned, muttering her thoughts out loud.

"Yeah," Andy nodded eagerly, recalling the item in question and agreeing with her assessment. "And then... nothing just..." Andy hesitated remembering the contented rumble of accent in her tone. She thought briefly about it but, shook the memory away. It was time to focus. "She was talking, but I don't remember anything else until she brought up Josse and Johnathan." She looked up to see Emily was still frowning, and Serena had this contemplative look on her face that said Andy really didn't want to know what she was thinking.

"So let me get this straight." Emily summarized, "You interrupted _our_ morning," she gestured between herself and the blonde sitting next to her. Serena had slipped on her glasses and was again flipping through the **Time** magazine. "Because Miranda needs _you_ to do something for the special upcoming anniversary issue. And you missed what she wants you to do because you were what… listening to her speak?"

"No! I mean... kinda but..." Andy stopped to refocus her thoughts. "Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid," the brunette complained. She slumped in the camel skin chair and wrung her hands together nervously. "Please, Em. I can't screw this up. The Anniversary Edition is so important to her."

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I know," she sighed. "I know." She leaned back into the seat and closed her eyes. She was suddenly exhausted with the conversation.

"Besides," Andy went on plaintively, sitting practically at the edge of her seat, "you're supposed to be on-call this Sunday. She shouldn't have even been calling me."

"Oh, whatever," Emily waved dismissively at Andy's statement.

"Emily!" Serena chided. Emily kept her eyes closed. She did not have to look at her partner to know that the blonde was shaking her head in disapproval. _She did not look up at all during the previous conversation,_ Emily thought annoyed, _but of course now she was all ears._

"What?" Emily demanded, finally turning fully towards Serena who she saw was frowning at her. "It's not my fault the twit's so bloody infatuated that she was imagining doing naughty things with our boss when she should have been focusing!" Her declaration was met with a "Hey!" of protest from Andy and stony silence from Serena.

Emily turned away from the two of them and cursed herself under her breath for not picking up the phone when it rang earlier. If she had, she could have had this conversation away from the _goody-two shoes_ that was her girlfriend. It was not her fault that the twit was too busy listening to Miranda's _voice_ of all things that she did not pay attention to what Miranda was actually saying. Grumbling, Emily gave in, "Fine, I'll help."

Andy gave a breath of relief, and practically collapsed back into the chair. She seemed willing to let Emily's _memory lapse_ concerning the scheduling go for the moment. "Thank you, Emily. I didn't know what else to do."

"Yeah, well," Emily could not help but make one more, small dig at her younger co-worker, "maybe next time you can just pay attention."

"I was paying attention," Andy protested, adding as an afterthought, "And I'm not a twit!" Emily snorted in amusement at her loudly mumbled, "Whatever that is."

"Now, now, Emily," Serena chided, with a soft knowing grin. Andy sat up seemingly eager to have Serena come to her rescue. "Andy's not a twit. Miranda's voice is just very…. alluring." Emily smirked, wanting to laugh at the absurdity of Serena's defense, but didn't want to get in any more trouble. "I'm sure Andy couldn't help it." Emily made a note to never allow her girlfriend to defend her in a court of law.

Andy stuck her tongue, and Emily was about to follow up on that with a snarky remark about what Andy could do with her tongue when Serena suddenly clapped once loudly to get their attention. "Alright you two!" She admonished, "Quit acting like children." Emily watched her placed her clasped hands onto her lap and grin widely. The transformation from annoyed girlfriend to Stepford Wife was so sudden and flawless that Emily was a little wary. Even Andy seemed to straighten up. "So when are we going?" Serena asked.

"We?" Emily asked. She raised her eyebrows in inquiry, "where are you going?"

"Well, since Andy interrupted what was promising to be a very fun morning because you were supposed to be on-call this weekend," Serena began.

"Hey, apparently Miranda was going to call anyway," Emily reasoned, "So really its Miranda's fault."

Serena continued, blithely ignoring both Emily's stammering protests and Andy's rapidly reddening cheeks, "I've decided to have my fun through less prurient means."

"Which means…" Emily trailed off looking for clarification, "you're coming with us?"

Serena was already nodding and standing up. "I'm coming with you!" She walked over, and sat on the padded arm of Andy's chair. Serena continued smiling, "So, hurry along _meine liebe_ , and get dressed. I don't want all of New York to see you in just your dressing robe. This gets to be my treat." Startling the younger woman as she threw an arm around the brunette's shoulders. "Well, just Andy's and mine."

Emily stood frowning. Serena had a look on her face that said she was a cat with a saucer of cream in front of her. And Andy… Andy was beginning to look terrified. Suspicious, Emily asked, "What are you two on about now?"

"Nothing!" Andy exclaimed hurriedly. She stood up abruptly from the chair putting some distance between herself and the blonde.

"Nothing much," Serena agreed innocently with a teasing glance at the nervous looking brunette. She smiled at Emily, and winked at her when Andy was not looking. Then the lithe blonde, slipped into the chair and patted the seat cushion besides her. "Come sit back down, Andy. We will chat and wait for _meine liebe_ to dress _together_." She allowed her eyes to stray up the length of Emily's body grinning widely before fixing her gaze back on the younger woman. Impossibly, she perked up even more, "We'll have so much fun together. Just the two of us."

Emily thought that Andy's eyes were going to fall out of her head. Heavens know that turning that shade of red could not be good for her health. She figured that Serena was teasing Andy about something. She had her suspicions as to what but was not sure yet. However, she would find out later and happily hold it over the brunette's head.

Emily hid a smile behind a false show of annoyance before heading back into the bedroom. Halfway there, she realized that her day off had been effectively canceled. She was stuck with the brunette until the laundry list of things to do was complete. _God! It'll be like some bloody scavenger hunt,_ she thought with a surge of actual annoyance. She should have answered the damn phone. She nearly flounce the rest of the way into the bedroom and slammed the door.

"Come on then!" Emily hit her horn as she shouted out of the window, "Move your arse!" A rude horn blasted at her in reply, and she responded back with an even ruder gesture. Serena watched from behind darkened sunglasses, feeling like nothing more than a lazy cat taking a nap in the sun. "God! Why are there so many stupid people in this city?" She heard Emily complain before the red head slumped back in her seat unhappily.

Emily had suggested that Nigel might have more insight into Miranda's plans for the Anniversary Edition, so Andy gave him a call. Luckily, she got in touch with him on the first try. He was entertaining that afternoon, but invited the three of them to join him and his guests for a meal. They agreed, and Emily opted to drive them over to his SoHo apartment.

 _"_ _Are you sure, Emily?_ _"_ _Serena cautioned. Serena grabbed the floppy, straw hat that she had placed on the back of the couch as she left the bedroom. She had changed clothes once more, this time into a white and green sundress, in anticipation of the fair weather._ _"_ _It_ _'_ _s almost noon rush hour._ _"_ _She remembered the last time she had been stuck in traffic with the red head._

 _"_ _Psshaw,_ _"_ _Emily scoffed,_ _"_ _It_ _'_ _s Sunday. There shouldn_ _'_ _t be too much traffic._ _"_

 _"_ _Those are famous last words,_ _"_ _Serena cautioned,_ _"_ _Knock on wood._ _"_ _She matched actions to words and walked over to knock on the wooden doorframe._

 _Emily shook her head bemusedly and lifted a cream linen jacket off the coat tree. She removed an imaginary piece of lint from the dark royal blue, sleeveless shell she had changed into. Then Emily ducked into the kitchen to grab a set of keys out of the bowl near the door._ _"_ _You know I don_ _'_ _t believe in that nonsense,_ _"_ _she smiled to take the sting out of her remark. Come on, Andy._ _"_ _Emily stated while she waved them towards the door,_ _"_ _Let me introduce you to my other baby._ _"_

 _"_ _Sometimes, I think she loves her car more than she loves me,_ _"_ _Serena whispered in an aside to Andy._

 _"_ _Nonsense, Love,_ _"_ _Emily said having overheard her. She placed a pair of Burberry sunglasses on top of her head and wrapped an arm around the Serena_ _'_ _s waist and gave her a quick kiss,_ _"_ _I love you both equally._ _"_ _Andy giggled as Emily dodged a playful slap to her arm._

 _The red head ushered them out of the apartment and locked the door. Then, she led them down to the apartment_ _'_ _s basement garage. Sitting in the third stall from the basement stairwell was a drophead 1968 Rover 2000TC. Andy_ _'_ _s mouth fell open in shock at the little four seater._

 _"_ _This is your car?_ _"_ _She asked in disbelief. She stared at the vehicle in awe,_ _"_ _It_ _'_ _s beautiful._ _"_ _She couldn_ _'_ _t help running her hand over the cotton candy blue paint of the classic car. Someone had obviously taken great car of the car, it was so shiny that she could see her reflection._

 _She looked up to see Emily grinning like a proud parent._ _"_ _Yep, this is my baby._ _"_ _She swept a proprietary palm across the surface where Andy had touched the convertible._ _"_ _My dad left it to me when he passed._ _"_

 _"_ _Oh, Em,_ _"_ _Andy said,_ _"_ _I_ _'_ _m sorry._ _"_

 _Serena reached out to squeeze Emily_ _'_ _s bare arm. Emily smiled at her but shook her head, and brushed Andy_ _'_ _s condolences aside,_ _"_ _It was a long time ago. Don_ _'_ _t worry about it._ _"_

 _Andy nodded and slipped into the backseat once Emily unlocked the door._ _"_ _So, Nigel_ _'_ _s?_ _"_ _Andy asked, changing the subject._

 _"_ _Nigel_ _'_ _s,_ _"_ _Emily confirmed. She pushed the button that would lower the soft top before she carefully backed out of the parking space. Then, she maneuvered the car up the garage ramp to the street level._ _"_ _Shouldn_ _'_ _t take us long at all,_ _"_ _Emily said._

 _"_ _Really pressing your luck,_ miene liebe _,_ _"_ _Serena chastised, ignoring that Emily was ignoring her words._

 _"_ _Nah,_ _"_ _Emily said, confident,_ _"_ _We_ _'_ _ll be there thirty minutes tops._ _"_

Twenty minutes later found them stuck in traffic due to a massive road construction project. At their rate of speed, it would take them another thirty or so minutes before they reached their turn off. Emily had lowered the roof of the convertible in an attempt to enjoy the last of the warm Indian summer weather. Andy lay as sprawled as she could be in the backseat while wearing a seatbelt. Serena had put on a pair of Maui Jim sunglasses and now lounged next to Emily like a cat in the sun.

"Don't say it," Emily muttered towards Serena. She could feel the blonde staring at her through the bronze tinted lenses of the sunglasses that she wore.

"Say what?" Serena asked, innocently.

Emily looked out the corner of her eyes at the blonde warily. "You know what," she replied, stoically.

"What?" Serena asked, smirking. "That I told you so?" She watched as Emily's lips thinned down in unhappiness.

"I hate you," Emily stated evenly. She huffed, "Sometimes, I really hate you."

Serena smiled ignoring the red head's words. "You love me," she stated with surety as she leaned over to place a chaste kiss at Emily's temple. "How could you not?"

"No, I don't," Emily insisted stubbornly, poking her lower lip out petulantly. Serena leaned over and kissed her again, this time at the corner of her mouth. "Okay," Emily admitted, looking at her with eyes darkening, "Maybe I hate you a little less now." Serena took that as a request and leaned in once again.

This time she gave her lover a less than chaste kiss on her mouth, taking the time to suck the pouting, coral painted bottom lip into her mouth for a soft exploration. A soft, "Woah. Okay," was voiced from the backseat but Serena pushed the distraction from her mind. She was more interested in the feel Emily's mouth and the taste of her beneath her lipstick.

"Ahem," Andy cleared her throat. Loudly. "Excuse me? Hey, guys," she said, raising her voice and catching Serena's attention fully. Andy sounded both curious and embarrassed - probably for the curiosity. Serena pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, to see Andy cheeks tinged with blush. "Hey, um... Could you not do that while Emily's driving? I'd..., I'd really like to make it to Nigel's place in one piece."

She was about to respond to Andy when multiple car horns blasted, jarring her thoughts. Emily muttered unhappily under her breath and slowly drove forward as Serena sat back in her seat. Traffic had apparently inched forward and the cars behind and around theirs were growing restless at the holdup delaying them from moving forward a few more feet.

"Hey! Don't stop!" The trucker in the semi next to them exclaimed, "Keep it going! Come on!" He pulled the cord to the truck's air horn twice with a fist pumping action and the sound almost drowned out the rest of his words, but not quite.

Emily rolled her eyes at the man's vulgar suggestions. "Emily, that's not helping," Serena stated, calmly as the other woman flipped him the bird before slipping the Burberry's over her eyes. She then proceeded to ignore him.

After another twenty minutes of sitting in stop-and-go traffic, Serena sighed and giving up; she was officially bored. Leaning back casually in the side passenger seat, she rolled her head along the broad seat back from side to side, trying to loosen the stiff muscles in her neck. Sometimes being stuck in a car with Emily could be so very stressful. Her lover had way too much energy to be cooped up in the small space of a vehicle, no matter how spacious the seating.

Right now, Emily was bouncing and singing along to some Top 40's rock song on the radio while the car was inching along around ten miles per hour. Normally this would be fine; they were moving and Emily could carry a tune. Serena also didn't mind the music. However, she was apparently in a sound war with the pink corvette next to them. The owner of the corvette insisted on blasting bubblegum pop from the car's speakers and trying was trying to out sing Emily. The result was that the volume between the two vehicles had continued to increase every ten minutes that passed. Serena felt the beginning of a headache coming on.

Catching sight of the brunette sitting quietly in the backseat, scanning her phone intently, Serena tossed a piece of paper at Andy. Andy's head popped up and she received a deer-in-headlights look. "What are you reading?" She asked curiously.

"Nothing," came the too quick reply. Andy sat up straighter and blacked out her phone screen. This only peaked Serena's curiosity.

Serena shifted out of her seat belt to her lover's loud protest and knelt facing Andy in the back seat. "Andy," she sing-songed smiling mischievously. Andy watched her warily but Serena still took managed to take the younger woman by surprise when she lunged over the seat to grab Andy's phone. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, ducking back over to her side of the car with her ill-gotten prize.

"Serena!" The brunette's reactive grab for the phone was stopped abruptly by her seat belt. Serena just tittered at her predicament.

"Serena, give it back!" Andy unfastened herself and tried for the phone again, but Serena swatted her arms away while turning on the device. Desperate, Andy nearly jumped over the seat and instead she almost fell onto Serena's lap when Emily slammed the brakes, rocking the car sharply. Andy managed to grab a hold of the hand holding the phone. "Serena," she tried again, "Let go!"

"If you don't stop it this instant," Emily yelled, interrupting their tug-of-war, "I will turn this car right around!" She turned in her seat to glare at the two over her sunglasses. "Do you two hear me?" She muted the volume and tried again, "I said, 'do you hear me'?"

Serena let go of the phone and Andy cradled it close as she slumped back in her seat with a pout. "Oh, I didn't mean to make you mad," the blonde sighed. She ignored the redhead's muttering in the seat next to her about driving in a car with deranged idiots and lunatics. Serena looked at Andy who continued to pout a little. "Why _were_ you looking up Miranda anyway? You can't say it's nothing now."

"It is nothing." Andy insisted with a sigh. I wanted to read up on her. There's not a lot." Andy gave in with a sigh, "I'm just trying to figure her out."

"Who?" Emily asked, half paying attention to the conversation as she concentrated on driving for a few minutes.

"Miranda," Serena supplied.

"Miranda?" Emily asked surprised, "Are you simple?" She raised her sunglasses and perched them back on top of her head, so she could look Andy in the eyes from the rearview mirror. Andy glared back. "Look. The internet is for watching porn and cat videos," Emily advised sagely. She glanced back at the road, "Not sussing out information about a bird you like."

Andy shook her head at the absurdity of Emily's statement. "You're the one who said that I should look beyond the Icon," she said. "How else am I going to do that?"

Emily frowned, "When did I say that?"

"Somewhere between slamming her against the wall and the iceberg joke, I think." Serena clarified.

"That's not helping," Emily repeated the blonde's words back to her. "And I don't remember it like that."

"You wouldn't," Andy muttered.

"The point is," Emily stressed, "you can't 'figure out' someone like Miranda Priestly by looking her up on the internet. If that were possible, then everyone would know her. Whomever you discover online... that's the Icon, the 'Media Whore' as those bloody gossip tabloid rags are so fond of casting her as. That's not the woman. The person that you're searching for isn't going to be so easily found."

Andy sighed, "Okay, but-"

"You did want to be a journalist, right?" Emily asked, exasperatedly. "At least that was what you blathered on about the one time I had the unfortunate idea to ask about your future plans."

"Yes," Andy replied.

"And I assume that you want to be a good journalist and work at something other than a red top magazine," she stated.

"Yes, of course," Andy rolled her eyes. "After all this," she waved her arms around to indicate everything she'd been through. "Why would I want to work for a tabloid?"

"Do you know where the term rag, in reference to a newspaper or magazine, comes from?" Serena picked up Emily's thread of thought. Andy blinked at the non-sequitur. At her negative response, Serena continued, "It was originally a Proto-Germantic word meaning to knock down, smash, and uproot." Seeing Andy's understanding she continued, "If you don't want to be a yellow journalist, then don't use their methods."

"So stop being so lazy," Emily added, cutting in. "The Internet is filled with sources that have a stake in assuming Miranda Priestly is guilty. And because it would be impossible to stop everyone thinking that she really is 'the Devil in Prada' she acts that way in public. She has a top-rated PR agency on her payroll, yet she rarely defends herself against libel and slander, instead using it to build up her public persona." She paused to move into the turning lane. "In order to discover the real Miranda Priestly, you need to respect her enough to allow her the presumption of innocence."

Andy nodded taking in the advice. She looked from one to the other before asking a question that had been plaguing her for some time. "Why are you doing this? Why is it so important to you?" She watched as Emily slid her sunglasses back over her eyes, her attention back on the road.

"Because we like you, Andy," Serena stated simply. Then she shrugged, "And we know Miranda. We think that you'd be really good for her but, she needs someone who truly knows her. Miranda could never be comfortable enough to love anyone who didn't." Serena sighed, "Besides, you're half in love with her already." She shook her head with a gentle grin when Andy tried to deny the statement, "Don't you think she deserves for someone to love her for who she really is?"

"Of course," Andy replied automatically to her question before arguing a point, "You're assuming that she could even be interested in me." The blonde cast her one more look before turning back around in her seat. The traffic had cleared since leaving the construction area. Andy sat quietly for some time as Emily continued weaving through the busy streets.

Emily and Serena's words echoed in her head. Did Miranda deserve the presumption of innocence? _Of course she did._ Although Andy never followed her father into the law profession, she'd had his sense of social justice ingrained into herself fully. The presumption of innocence was basically the heart of the US judicial system. How could she _not_ give Miranda the shadow of a doubt?

Was she, as Serena stated, 'half in love' with Miranda already? Andy stopped there at that thought. She'd denied it earlier but, Andy was definitely feeling _something_ for Miranda. Attraction and some luster definitely but, she couldn't say it was love. Not yet. _Maybe never,_ Andy admitted to herself.

But all else aside, now what? Indirect methods weren't getting her the answers she wanted, and she had no fucking clue how to get a woman, who was notorious for not answering questions, talking. Andy had run up against the proverbial brick wall. Maybe it was time to 'gird her loins' as Nigel would say and ask that first question.


End file.
